Blowing Off Steam
by The Noble Platypus
Summary: In which Kate Beckett shoots at things for no real reason, to Castle's consternation.
1. Cargo Ship

**Author's Note: **That was some finale, wasn't it? Dang! After watching it, a friend and I determined two things: one, the fandom could probably use some laughs, and two, Beckett has a tendency to shoot at things for no real reason. So now, I give you Blowing Off Steam, a fic comprised of many cracktastic little shorts in which Beckett shoots at things for no real reason (besides making herself feel better, that is). Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Castle, and am not making money off of this venture. Thank goodness.

* * *

><p><strong>I. <strong>

The freighter had already cast off, and Castle could see it pulling away from the dock. Knowing that they wouldn't reach it in time, he began to slow, puffing for air. Well, they'd _almost _had him.

Beckett, to his slight surprise, didn't seem deterred. She pounded down the dock in a pair of heels just this side of impractical, and Castle winced, waiting for her to snag on an uneven plank and trip. Wanting to be there to pick her up if she _did _end up face-planting onto the dock, he begrudgingly broke back into a run.

He caught up to his partner at the end of the dock. She was glaring at the retreating vessel, her weapon still clutched in her hands. Castle drew a breath to say something encouraging, lifting a hand for a bracing shoulder pat, but the relative calm was shattered by the explosive report of Beckett's weapon.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! _Beckett fired on the ship, her expression grim. Castle shrank back instinctively, astonished at her behavior.

"Beckett?" he ventured in one of the brief pauses between gunshots.

"What?" she snapped, her aim unwavering as she continued to empty her clip at the hulk of a ship.

"Just..." he took a small, tentative step towards her and reached for her shoulder. "Look, will you just _stop it?"_

Beckett's arms dropped with startling alacrity, and he skipped back a step as she whirled around to face him. "He's getting away!" she said with a pointed gesture over her shoulder, her expression suggesting that _he _was being unreasonable.

Castle straightened. "Yes, he's getting away, but I don't know what _shooting the boat _is supposed to accomplish," he bit back, nettled.

Beckett let out a frustrated huff of air as she holstered her weapon, turned away from him and folded her arms. Castle relaxed a little, though he couldn't quite let the matter drop. "What, did you think you were going to breach the hull?"

Beckett hunched her shoulders and stormed past him. He followed, hurrying to catch up. "Because if so, you probably should have aimed closer to the waterli—"

"Shut up, Castle."

* * *

><p>I have a few more chapters in mind, so if you aren't put off by the idea of hardcore, down-the-rabbit-hole levels of crack and questionable characterization, stick around!<p> 


	2. Lift Bridge

**Disclaimer: **It will only get stranger from here on out.

* * *

><p><strong>II.<strong>

"Damn it!" Beckett pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Their quarry, some hundred yards ahead of them, had blasted through the lowered barrier, snapping it in half, and continued over the lift bridge, which hadn't lifted quite high enough to make crossing impossible.

"Beckett, we're not going to make it," Castle said from the passenger's seat as he eyed the bridge with no small amount of trepidation. They weren't slowing down.

"Take the wheel," Beckett ordered, rolling down her window.

Castle stared at her. "What?"

"Take the wheel, Castle!" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the windowsill with her left hand and pulled herself half out of the window. Her right hand freed her gun from its holster.

"Jesus!" Castle leaned over and grabbed the wheel, wishing she could have given him control over the brakes instead of the steering. "What are you _doing?"_

Beckett didn't respond. Transferring her gun to her left hand, she steadied herself with her right and took aim. It was all Castle could do to hold the wheel steady as she opened fire.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

"There is _no way," _Castle shouted, "that you could _possibly _hit the guy from here!"

Beckett shouted something. She hadn't stopped shooting, though, so the only word he could make out over the gunfire was, 'lower.'

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Had she said _slower? _She was the one controlling their speed, not him, and she certainly wasn't easing up on the gas. Castle spared her a glance, saw that she was ignoring him, and decided that whatever her comment had been, it hadn't been for him. Then he saw how close they were to the bridge, and decided it didn't matter. "We're not going to make the crossing," he shouted. "Kate, you have to stop the car!"

Perhaps it was the first name usage that got her attention—which was just as well, as his Plan B involved jiggling the steering wheel to get her attention, and he didn't want to jostle her out of the car. Grumbling under her breath, Beckett pulled herself back into the driver's seat. "I almost had it!" she snapped, giving him an accusing glare.

"What, the _bridge?" _he incredulously replied. Then, bracing himself, he shrieked, "Brakes!"

The car screeched to a halt only a few feet shy of the nearly vertical expanse of roadway their quarry had crossed a minute before. For a few lingering moments, both of the car's occupants were silent.

Castle cleared his throat and pried his fingers off of the arm rest. "Did you really think you could somehow lower the bridge by shooting at it?" he asked in a deceptively light tone.

Beckett leaned against the steering wheel and scowled out the windshield. "Shut up, Castle."


	3. Net

**Author's Note: **This one has a bit of different vibe to it. Perhaps it's because I have a horrible head cold and have medicated myself to the gills. Hopefully, you will still find it giggle-inducing.

* * *

><p><strong>III.<strong>

Castle sighed. When Beckett had seen his predicament, all she had done was pause for a moment and raise an eyebrow ever-so-slightly, but she might as well have pointed and laughed. He wouldn't have blamed her.

"Yes," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, "I'm stuck in a net, and it's hilarious." He shifted, and the net creaked as he swayed back and forth, suspended a good seven feet above the warehouse floor.

Beckett moved cautiously into the room, checking for their suspect. "She's gone," Castle supplied from his superior vantage point. "She ran out the back a few minutes ago."

"What?" Beckett loped to the back door and was outside before Castle could do more than let out an indignant, "Hey!"

He had hoped she would help him down before she went running off. Grunting a little, he managed to haul himself into a standing position—or a semblance of one, anyway. He clung to the weave and examined the hook from which he was suspended, wondering if he could free himself without severe injury.

He was startled by the sound of the door slamming open. Beckett stormed back into the room, an irritated expression on her face. Frustration was rolling off of her in waves. Apparently, her search had confirmed what Castle had already told her. Biting back an 'I told you so,' Castle instead asked, "A little help, please?"

Beckett paced around him, eyeing the set-up. "How in the hell did you manage to get caught in a net, Castle?"

"Can't I finish living through the experience before I _re_live it?" he asked, trying not to whine.

Beckett let out a quiet snort. "Fine," she said as she raised her weapon.

"That's not what I meant!" Castle's voice leaped a few octaves as he instinctively tried to retreat. He only succeeded in entangling himself further.

"I'm not going to shoot _you," _Beckett said, rolling her eyes.

He stared at her, unappeased. "Why do you have to shoot anything? There are less shoot-y ways to get me down."

"Maybe," Beckett conceded, "but this way's quicker. You should probably duck." Without further ado, she commenced firing on the net.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

"Whoa!" Castle fell into an awkward crouch. "Beckett, look, the control for the winch is _right there." _He flailed one hand in the direction of the controls.

Beckett paused, eyeing the controls for a moment. "Oh. Thanks." And with that, she turned and started shooting at the control box.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

"That's not—why would you—Beckett, for the love of God!" Castle sputtered as his partner emptied her clip into the control box.

"Shut up, Castle," Beckett said coolly, "I've almost got it." Sparks flew, and with a sudden jerk, the cable went slack. Hook, net, and writer tumbled to the ground. Castle hit the floor hard and rolled, and by the time he came to a stop, he was so thoroughly entangled that he could do little more than wriggle.

Beckett put her gun away and crouched beside him, looking far more cheerful than she had a moment ago. "You okay?"

"I've been better." Castle pouted at her. "Help?"

"Hold still," she said, tugging at the net. It took her the better part of a minute to free him, her amusement increasing all the while. She managed to refrain from laughing outright, but his pride had taken enough of a blow that laughter couldn't have made things much worse.

"There we go," Beckett said as she peeled back the last bit of netting. Castle sat up, brushed himself off, and sniffed. Furrowing her brow a little, she asked, "Seriously, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Castle replied, allowing her to help him up. "It's just…" he hesitated, apprehensive, "you're going to tell Ryan and Esposito about this, aren't you?"

"Oh, Castle." Beckett laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a look that was almost tender. "I'm going to tell _everyone."_


	4. Tornado

**Disclaimer: **This story is very silly.

* * *

><p><strong>IV.<strong>

Murderers, to Castle's private annoyance, did not schedule around severe weather. Granted, the thunderstorm had popped up quickly—seemingly out of nowhere, in fact—so he didn't _really _expect anyone to have planned for it. He certainly hadn't—neither had Beckett, and as a result, they were both soaked to the skin. But trying to chase down a murderer on foot when rain was bucketing down from the sky was a miserable job, and it was easier to blame the murderer than Mother Nature.

Easier for _him, _anyway. Beckett was plastered to the brick work beside him in the dubious cover of a doorway, and from what he could hear over the cracks of thunder and hiss of rain, she was railing at the storm in a manner that would have made King Lear blush.

"—_is is bullshi—" _he heard her say before a crash of thunder drowned her out. _"—in my city! Go back to Oklahoma or Kans—" _a gust of wind tore down the street, snatching her words away, _"—murderers to catch, you goddamn—" _an empty trashcan bounced noisily past their alcove, _"—in New York; we have street walkers who blow harder than—" _another crack of thunder split the sky.

"Are you trying to scare it off, or make it worse?" Castle asked, exasperated and more than a little bit taken aback.

"Shut up, Castle!" He heard that one loud and clear.

The rain intensified, hitting the pavement with enough force to create a six-inch haze over the ground. Castle began to wonder just how long they were going to be stuck in the doorway. They'd cornered their quarry, but he was armed, and with their visibility limited by the storm, there wasn't much they could do but stay put and make sure the guy didn't sneak past them. It wasn't Castle's favorite plan ever, but it sat even worse with Beckett. He could practically hear her teeth grinding over the storm.

"That's it," she snapped, stepping out of the doorway with her gun at the ready and turning towards the far end of the alley, where the murderer was crouched behind some dustbins. Lightning flashed overhead, followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Beckett didn't even flinch. "Come out, you sonofa—" she started to shout, but something made her pause. Castle poked his head out of the doorway and followed her gaze.

Oh, god. "Beckett…"

Jaw set, Beckett raised her weapon, aiming it at the swirling vortex that was bearing down on them.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

"Beckett, that's a _tornado," _Castle shouted as a building a block away was stripped of some roofing material. "You can't just shoot it!" Giving no indication that she'd heard him, Beckett continued to fire at the sky.

Castle waffled, torn between wanting to grab her and pull her back to the relative safety of the alcove and _not _wanting to touch her while she was actively—and repeatedly—discharging her weapon. Concern for her safety won out over concern for his own, and he reached out, grabbed her arm, and hauled her back into the doorway.

"Hey!" she protested, glaring at him. "Don't grab me when I'm shooting at something!"

"Don't stand out in the open when there's a tornado approaching!" Castle shot back, pushing her against the door and planting his body between her and the alleyway behind them.

"I would have been _fine," _she said insistently. Moments later, a sizeable tree branch hit the pavement where she had been standing. Castle raised his eyebrows at her, and Beckett shook her head. "Don't even start, Castle."

The wind picked up, and further talk became impossible. It was all Castle could do to stand his ground as the wind tore at him. He braced himself against the walls of the alcove as his ears popped. Then, to his great surprise, Beckett closed the short distance between them and wrapped an arm around him, her head tucked over his shoulder. He didn't have time to do more than blink in astonishment before her motive became clear.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! _Castle winced as Beckett fired away from beneath his arm.

A minute later, it was over. Beckett had emptied her clip, and the storm had died down considerably. It was still raining, but compared to the earlier deluge, it was a gentle shower.

Beckett stepped back, all but peeling herself off of him—they were both so thoroughly soaked that their clothing stuck together. "Okay, Castle?" she asked as she reloaded her weapon.

"Yeah," he said, shaking out his arms. "You?"

"Fine." She glanced up at him. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he replied dryly as she ducked back out into the alleyway. After a moment, she gave the all-clear, and Castle emerged from the doorway to see that the storm had conveniently put their killer out of commission for them. He was out cold, sprawled on the pavement next to a tell-tale branch.

"Look at that," Beckett said, sounding impressed in spite of herself. "Storms can be helpful."

"Yeah," Castle agreed, wiping his dripping hair out of his eyes. "You should really be nicer to them."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>The tornado in this fic was on the weak end of the scale, something like a strong F0 or a weak F1, and I imagine it passed a block or so away from them and not directly overhead. In the event of a REAL tornado, a doorway would not cut it. Get indoors. This has been a public service announcement from The Noble Platypus.


End file.
